Chapter 91

Nothing could be felt.

Nothing could be felt?

It was an interesting thought.

A subject perceiving and the recognition that ‘there’s no feeling.’

Despite the absence of external stimuli, I had opened my eyes.

That was the first time.

I swam through darkness. Then I met existences in the same situation.

Things without names.

Those not even permitted the expression of being abandoned.

Born outside god’s gaze, they grew up envying god’s children.

They learned how to speak, realized how to handle power, and understood longing.

Love.

A fruit they wanted to taste so badly.

I whispered of love continuously in the darkness.

Loving so much that I wanted to devour everything.

*

Sheryl opened her eyes amid a shock like being slapped across the cheek.

It had been a terrible dream. She felt sick enough to vomit. She swallowed the rising bile and searched for water.

When she turned her gaze, she saw a man collapsed on the table.

She was terribly startled. Why was there a person here?

But she soon recalled who the man was. Was it because she’d suffered from a nightmare? Her memory was hazy.

Sheryl carefully got out of bed. She stood on tiptoe so as not to wake the man, Quilbion, and grabbed the water bottle placed on the dresser.

A maddening thirst swept over her.

She gulped down water. Even though she’d emptied half the bottle, her esophagus still felt parched.

In the end, she drank all the water in the bottle.

Fatigue pressed down on her body. She sat on the edge of the bed and ruminated on the nightmare.

What on earth had it been?

All the emotions she’d recalled while swimming through darkness came rushing in at once.

Cruel and disgusting.

A chilling malice that a human couldn’t harbor.

“Malice.”

Sheryl covered her face with both hands.

She’d defined it as malice, but what Sheryl actually felt was closer to purity. Purity lacking humanity and morality.

Malice would have been better.

Because malice contained understanding.

The emotion she’d felt in the dream was fundamental darkness she absolutely couldn’t accept, that didn’t even permit trying to understand.

She blew breath into the space between her cupped hands.

It felt like something thick and murky would come out from inside her body, but only stale breath gathered in her hands.

Sheryl looked at Quilbion.

Had she seen the reality of the ‘monster’ that man had mentioned?

Actually, she hadn’t believed it.

How could she believe it?

That there was a monster inside a ‘stupid woman,’ to borrow Quilbion’s words, who’d lived ordinarily before suddenly being selected as a saint and dragged here, knowing nothing.

Right, it made no sense.

A monster.

She’d had a strange dream from hearing nonsense. Surely that was it.

She stood up while strongly denying it.

When depressing thoughts came, moving the body was best. This was a secret technique mom had taught her, and an effective method that had never betrayed her.

She jumped lightly in place.

Then she did jumping jacks while lifting her knees high.

Her body quickly warmed up.

Right, as expected, people need to move.

How many minutes had passed like that?

Sheryl looked at her two legs that still moved well.

She gulped down dry saliva. It was strange. Normally after jumping for about 3 minutes, her knees would tremble and she couldn’t jump anymore.

She looked at the clock hanging above the mirror.

The minute hand was advancing mercilessly toward the number 10.

She’d jumped for over 20 minutes, but not a single drop of sweat. Not just sweat—even her breathing wasn’t disturbed.

Was she dreaming now?

She was scared. Sheryl immediately hid under the blanket. She closed her eyes tightly and waited to fall asleep—no, to wake from sleep.

It was useless.

Her consciousness was clear, and her lucid mind told her that what had just happened wasn’t a dream.

She escaped from the bed.

After facing the wall, she banged her head against it. Thunk, thunk, thunk.

It hurt.

It hurt enough to bring tears.

I should stop—she turned around but misstepped. The dresser corner approached rapidly.

In the space of an “Ah,” she smashed her head on the corner.

CRASH!

She hit it hard enough that the sturdy dresser tilted sideways and toppled over.

Sheryl placed her hand on the left side of her head while prostrate. The skull that should have held its position firmly was dented inward.

No, it must have been this shape originally.

Strangely, there was no pain. When she’d banged her head against the wall, it had hurt so much.

She raised her head and looked at the table.

Quilbion was still sleeping while collapsed. How deeply asleep was he?

As she stood up while touching her head, she realized something was dripping down along her chin.

Her gaze went downward.

Blood was pooling on the floor.

“Ah.”

She stood before the mirror while swallowing the scream that couldn’t fully emerge.

Half her face was stained with blood.

She looked down at her palm. Red, as expected.

They said you’d die if you lost a lot of blood.

Sheryl stared blankly at herself in the mirror while touching her head.

It didn’t feel real. There was no pain either.

The blood that had been flowing stopped in an instant.

She could tell because she had her hand on the dented skull.

The bone squirmed and returned to its place.

“Aaaaah!”

This time she couldn’t hold back the scream. She turned away from the mirror, but Quilbion snatched her wrist and gagged her mouth with his hand.

“Quiet.”

Sheryl nodded while whimpering.

“Were you trying to die? Why do you look like this?”

Quilbion slowly removed his hand.

“W-well.”

Sheryl explained what had just happened while looking at the carpet stained with blood.

Really inside me……

“Sheryl.”

“Yes?”

She snapped to attention and answered.

“You’re doing well.”

“Wh-what am I?”

“Look. If you were an ordinary person, you would have lost consciousness. If unlucky, you would’ve died. But what about you?”

“I……”

Sheryl touched her head with the hand without blood. She felt a round skull. Something rough was felt through the hair—when she peeled it off slightly, it was a scab.

“The wound healed completely.”

“This can’t be.”

“Don’t deny the facts.”

“I’m not a monster!”

“Right, you’re not. But you will be soon.”

Sheryl sat down.

“I hate darkness. I’m just a person.”

“I know. What kind of feeling you have. I’ve experienced it too.”

Experienced it?

Sheryl looked up at Quilbion. He was making a bitter smile.

“I’m a monster too.”

*

“Calamity will come. There’s no way to stop it. But we can minimize the damage.”

The Saint looked around the assembly while speaking. Quilbion stood behind the Saint and examined the faces of the high-ranking priests.

Nine people had gathered in the chairman’s room.

In the seats on both sides closest to the Saint sat High Priest Volb and Holy Knight Romen.

“Why such a trial?”

“We cannot fathom god’s will.”

Those who’d been exchanging conversation looked at the Saint’s mouth again.

“I will go outside the holy ground.”

At just that one statement, four priests stood up abruptly.

Impossible, at times like this we must preserve the sacred body, we have a duty to protect the holy ground as top priority, and so on.

They poured out all kinds of words and strongly opposed the Saint’s outing.

Quilbion looked at Volb and Romen.

These two held the keys.

He coughed lightly. It was a signal to the Saint.

The Saint’s shoulders flinched slightly before straightening, then she stood from her seat.

The assembly that had been noisy became quiet.

The Saint knelt beautifully and clasped both hands together.

Silver gathered.

It was holy power.

The Saint had said she didn’t know god’s word and hated the tiresome sect, but she could at least display holy power.

The problem was that aside from glowing silver, there was no other effect.

Of course, to the followers, that was proof of god and his word.

Quilbion clicked his tongue inwardly.

Had this world’s god noticed the existence of the monster sleeping inside the Saint’s body?

If he’d figured it out, shouldn’t he eradicate it rather than bestowing holy power?

Perhaps this world’s god was someone who lived with destruction as his truth.

Or didn’t exist.

“Ooh.”

The priests made the sign of the cross while exclaiming in admiration. Quilbion also roughly imitated the posture by eye.

“If we avoid pain, only greater pain will come. That I came to hear god’s voice was solely for this moment. How can you try to confine god’s love only within the holy ground?”

The Saint recited the prepared lines.

Fortunately, she didn’t make mistakes.

At the words “god’s love,” Volb and Romen let out sighs. The other priests were the same.

“If we pursue safety within the holy ground, can that really be called Sopim’s attitude? If we become complacent, Necim’s steel club will fall upon our heads.”

It’s a steel rod, not steel club—Quilbion hid his bitter smile.

Religious terminology was all about nuance.

Look at that.

Wasn’t the priest sitting at that end tilting his head?

But whether overwhelmed by the atmosphere, the priest didn’t say anything and just clasped his hands together again.

“Do you all truly want to monopolize god’s love? That’s an arrogant thought. Thorgan doesn’t embrace the prideful. He will only look down upon the courageous who take the lead for salvation.”

The Saint stood up.

“I will advance. If you oppose, I’ll leave everything here and go with my bare body. That is heaven’s will. As a faithful servant, I will follow that person’s will.”

Quilbion nodded heavily with relief.

Though she’d slipped up in the middle, she’d finished well.

Now they just had to wait.

The result would differ depending on how factions within the sect had formed.

If the side insisting they must defend the holy ground had strong speaking rights, they’d force an escape.

There weren’t many eyes monitoring the Saint. The Saint had quietly followed doctrine for the past several years.

Moreover, the Saint’s residential area was quite far from the main assembly hall. If they moved swiftly on a late night, they could cross the garden and escape.

Though there would be many places to revise since it was an escape plan established based on the Saint’s words.

After Volb made eye contact with Romen, he looked at the Saint.

“The Saint’s words are correct. The impure who don’t follow god’s word cannot be called believers. Advance. Advance and show us the path we must take.”

When Romen nodded with his mouth closed, the priests sitting on both sides of the long table also made the sign of the cross and just nodded heavily.

It worked.

“However.”

This time Romen spoke.

“It’s also true that we’re worried about the Saint’s and apostle’s safety. That calamity is approaching must mean the wicked are gaining power. They won’t leave alone the two who’ll become light.”

It was as expected.

The bastards who’d kidnapped and confined a girl who’d been living ordinarily in the countryside wouldn’t let her go nicely.

“We will protect the light.”

When Romen spoke proudly, the priests let out “Ooh” exclamations.

While watching the religious fanatics’ self-praise, Quilbion smiled broadly.

“I can only be grateful.”

Damn it.

Still, since they’d be able to go outside, the big problem was resolved.

Quilbion poked the Saint’s back without the priests knowing. The Saint, who’d been grinning foolishly, composed her expression.